Midgar Wastelands: Regret's Last Resting Place
by Syran Night
Summary: "If he was the so-called 'hero', why did everyone treat him like he was the one about to break?" Cloud reminiscences about past failures , as Tseng reminds him of the successes he still has to come. It's time for Cloud to do something no one else before him could do.


**AN: ***Sigh* It's been so long since I've written something. Anyway here's Cloud's visit, the sequel to Tseng's trip to Midgar's wasteland.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own FFVII

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The Turk stood next to him, silent and unmoving. His eyes laid solely on the sword in front of them, the rusted metal seeming to gleam in the moonlight. His face was expressionless but somehow softer and his hands remain behind his back instead of near his holster as they usually were. The changes were minimal but to Cloud, they made the Turk seem more human somehow. Zack had a way of changing people. This Turk wasn't any different.

Cloud's eyes finally faced the sword, taking in the rust and dried stains of years of use. He knew where some of them came from. The memories of past battles flashing pass his mind's eye. The long purple stain that splattered from the blunt end of the sword was left by Rufus' Dark Nation. Another stain, green this time, was made during his final bout with Hojo. The scientist wasn't human anymore by the time they faced one another.

There were even more that he didn't recognize. The stains left behind by Zack. There were times when Cloud would inspect the left over stains and wonder just what Zack was fighting against. He had never seen anything that would cause some of those splatters. Then he thought of the experiments in the old Shin-ra manor and realized that he'd rather not know.

Some nights he would dream of the mad scientist that once dwelled in the old house. Nightmares of things he couldn't remember littered his mind as he slept, each one trying desperately to remind him of the terrors that Hojo put him through. He would wake up on a cold sweat, thanking Zack over and over again as he tried to lull himself back to sleep. On other nights he would dream of Zack, the man strapped to a table as he eyes stayed only on him, lip bleeding as he tried to hold back the screams. Hojo would poke and probe, scrap and cut but Zack's eyes never left his own as they pleaded for some type of human interaction that didn't involve unbearable pain. Those were the nights that he didn't fall back to sleep.

Whether they were dreams or memories, he didn't know but it didn't matter. Either way, Zack survived that hell and dragged them both out with the sword latched securely on his back. Cloud knew how much of a burden that sword could be, and to Cloud that should have been the only burden that Zack had to carry. Maybe then Zack would have made it pass where he was standing now.

Glancing behind him, Cloud could see the rock that he hid behind while Zack wasted his life in order to save his own. That boulder will always haunt him. It will always be a constant reminder of how much of a coward he really was. He remembered hearing the yells and distant gunfire, body scared stiff until it was over. He tried to tell himself that it was the Mako Poisoning, but he knew that was a lie. He was scared. He didn't help because he was too afraid to. He was no hero. Heroes didn't hide while their friends died.

He shook his head, eyes back on the sword in front of him. It was then that he noticed the Turk's attention now on him. His coal eyes watched the blonde. The warrior could barely see the well disguised concern within them and he could feel the anger bubbling in his chest. Cloud was so tired of people looking at him like that. If he was the so-called 'hero', why did everyone treat him like he was the one about to break? He was the one that defeated Sephiroth – twice – and yet others looked at him like he was fragile and hopeless. Cloud snatched his eyes away, the scowl from his anger barely hidden. Who was this Turk to pity him?

The Turk let loose an amused grunt and Cloud glared at him for the sound.

"I don't pity you," Tseng said reading the other like an open book, "I'm just worried about you."

He's heard this before. Tifa, Reeve, Barret, Cid – hell even Denzel, they all would look at him with those same concerned eyes. They all told him it was not pity, that they were just worried about him and never had he believed them. They all felt sorry for him, leaving him alone to drown in their pity. "Isn't that the same," Cloud answered in irritation.

"No," Tseng said, "I don't feel sorry for you. You weren't the one who died here."

"What's that suppose to mean," Cloud bristled.

"You still have a life to live," Tseng continued, "You still have a chance to recover. I can never pity the man that was given as many second chances as you and I. The man that deserved that chance more than anyone else and didn't receive it – he is the man that I pity."

He sighed at the concerned Turk's words, knowing that it wasn't the look of pity that upset him. It was the look of acceptance that the others gave him that truly angered him, the looks that told him 'you are not Zack but that's ok, you still did your best'. He couldn't stand to see Tifa's gentle brown eyes that constantly begged him to be someone that he wasn't – someone more cheerful, more motivated... more like Zack. But he just wasn't Zack, no matter how much he wanted to be.

"Are you saying that I should have died here instead? I agree. I should have." Cloud looked at the ground below him, no longer able to look at the Turk or the sword across from him. The blade served as a constant reminder that no matter what he did, he would never live up to its previous owners. He never should have wielded that sword.

"No," Tseng answered softly and sincerely, ripping Cloud from his thoughts, "That not what I'm conveying."

"I should've died."

"But you didn't. That is something that you've done that Zack didn't," Tseng snapped, his once cool exterior cracking as he let the other see the human underneath, "You lived! I don't _**pity**_ a living man. I'm **_worried_ **that you will waste the life given to you! Life is precious, even to someone like you. Live Cloud! For Leviathan's sake, live. Do something that the one's before you can't! Live in the peace that you've worked so hard to obtain."

Cloud blinked owlishly at the other. He had never seen Tseng like this. He was flushed a dull pink, his eyes wide and nostrils flared. His breath was coming in pants as he swiped misplaced hairs back to where they belonged, donning the Turk persona once again. Was this the person that Zack saw and became so enthralled with? If so Cloud could figure why. However the man's words rang in his ears, the truth he needed to hear so bluntly said to him. Zack was dead and he wasn't.

"What do you want from me," Cloud asked genuinely confused.

"No," Tseng answered, "It's not what I want from you. It's what you want for yourself. You're in a position in your life where you can choose. Not even I have this freedom, nor did Angeal and neither did Zack. Take this opportunity, Cloud and do something that others before you couldn't. Live life as you see fit. You don't have a President to follow, a general to order you or a fate to dictate you. Stop seeing Zack as a looming shadow and embrace him as a guarding angel. You are not Zack but you don't have to be."

Cloud nodded at the other as he returned his gaze back to the sword, the weight of it finally off his shoulders. "Zack, an angel, seems fitting."

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**AN: **I hoped you enjoyed. If you did or have any suggestions leave a review. Until next time.


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